


But Maybe I'm Just In Love

by hoechlinanddylan



Series: The Boy of Many Words [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 20:57:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7453690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoechlinanddylan/pseuds/hoechlinanddylan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On your 18th birthday, the first words your soulmate will ever say to you gets tattooed onto your skin in their handwriting. Derek thinks his soulmate should stop talking so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But Maybe I'm Just In Love

**Author's Note:**

> So, I decided to come back to this work! I wanted to start off by writing a companion piece, in Derek's POV, of "Ink My Skin". Next, I'm going to focus on Stiles POV and then I'll switch to Derek's. I'm having fun seeing Derek through Stiles eyes, but then having Derek be completely different in his own head. Quite the lowkey nerd, that one.

Derek Hale didn’t spend too much time looking at his body. It’s not that he didn’t think he was attractive. He wasn’t oblivious; he knew what people said about him behind his back. Hell, he knew what they said about him to his face. Eventually he got used to the ass pinches from women old enough to be his grandmother in line at the bank, and the giggly whispers from preteens manning concessions at the movie theaters. He used to get a little thrill from the attention, if he was being honest with himself. He used to wink at all his teachers when turning in homework; sunbathe close to the lifeguards at the public pool, stretching out so that the sunscreen glistened on his pecs and abs. Okay, so he used to be a cocky little shit. Sue him.

But then the fire happened. And suddenly what people thought of his body or his face didn’t matter anymore, now that his entire family was gone.

And then two years after that, when he twists and turns in the mirror in his shared bedroom with Boyd, in the aftermath of the worst non-refundable birthday gift ever, and sees the fucking…. word vomit that fate herself decided to tarnish his body with…well, he decides that vanity is overrated anyhow.

 

* * *

 

It was 11:27p on a Saturday night and Derek should be in bed. Well, maybe he shouldn’t be, seeing as he was a 23 old man. He probably _should_ be at a bar or party or something, like Boyd, Erica, and Isaac were, socializing and getting wasted. But he _wanted_ to be in bed. Specifically, in bed with his new fleece pajamas from L.L. Bean and a copy of “Game of Thrones”. He still had a third of it to go before he could allow himself to watch the tv series, and he knew Erica was having that binge watching party next Saturday. So, you know….he had a lot on his plate.

But, of course, he wasn’t doing any of that. No, instead, he was traipsing through woods, trying to figure out why teenagers always picked _his_ property to party in and, subsequently, get lost in.

They didn’t even have the decency to be subtle about it.

“You’re the one who wanted to come with me,” he heard a loud distant voice say. 

“You really think I would let you roam the woods at night by yourself? You, the asthmatic?”

Derek rolled his eyes. Great. Someone might die on his property. He’d be filling out paperwork all night. He’d never figure out what happened to Daenerys and her dragon eggs.

He walked a little faster, smacking branches out of his way. 

He heard them (sounded like two boys) stumble around up north, towards the river.

“Ew, you’re gross. You ever heard of bedrooms? Motel rooms? The back of a freaking car? I mean anything is better than a dingy cave in the middle of the woods, Scott. Have some decency.” 

He had almost caught up to them, so the voice was closer than he expected, a few trees down and around a tall sheet of rock.

“I’ll just be out here, then. Waiting. In the dark.”

Derek sighed, slightly with relief. The voice, not-Scott apparently, sounded sure and consistent, so at least they weren’t drunk. Derek sauntered around the small cliff, soft moss around the bottom absorbing his heavy footsteps. He was just about to jump into his speech about the sanctity of privacy and the dangers of an unmarked forest at night, when his words got caught in his throat.

The boy looked slightly older than Derek had originally pictured, lithe form leaning against an oak in a red plaid open button-up, a light grey graphic t-shirt, and dark grey slim jeans. His arms were crossed and his head was tilted upwards, dark hair slightly curling at his neck, swaying softly in the breeze. The boy’s eyes were closed, but Derek could see the shadow of long eyelashes on his cheekbones, the smallest of smiles playing on his lips. 

Now, Derek wasn’t in the business of using the word “beautiful” lightly. In fact, previously, the only people he felt deserving of that title were his mom and Laura. But…he felt he had to make an exception tonight.

The boy breathed in deeply, as if taking in the fresh forest air, and his collarbones peeked out of the top of his shirt in the movement.

Derek shook himself. He came there for a task. Not to stare creepily at high schoolers. 

He straightened his shoulders and took a purposeful step forward. “What the hell are you doing here? This is private property.”

The boy stiffened, still with his eyes closed, but otherwise made no other movement.

Derek frowned. Did he not hear him? Was he asleep? Maybe he was drunk. Maybe he was on drugs. Maybe both. Dammit. He had a high, drunk, teenage boy on his property that wasn’t responding to basic communication. It was too late for this.

The boy opened his eyes- such pretty eyes, Derek immediately thought- and blinked. And then blinked again, mouth agape. Maybe Derek should just heft him over his shoulder; drop him off at the nearest hospital. Shit, what about his friend? Wait…where was his friend? And why the hell wasn’t the boy saying anything? 

Finally, the boy inhaled as if he had been holding his breath. Yep, definitely on drugs. But then he cleared his throat. 

And started talking.

 

* * *

  _His whole upper back was on fire. Literally on fire, it felt like. Like someone was taking an iron skewer that had been in a furnace and writing a letter to their loved one across his shoulders. Derek had lost track of time, but it couldn’t have been more than 40 minutes. Even still, most people said their tattoos had been formed within 30 minutes. But of course, you had some tattoos that took up to an hour to fully brand on the skin. So, Derek held out. He bit back his screams, tearing through his lips with his teeth and clenching at the pillows around him. He had moved to his stomach once he felt the first tendrils of heat on his left shoulder, and his hair was drenched with sweat. But still he waited._

_And waited._

_And waited._

_And waited still, as the brand moved from left to right across his shoulder blades, around his right shoulder, and wrapping down around his bicep, once…_

_Twice…_

_Thrice…._

_Four times…_

_By now Derek could barely see past his tears but he could make out the numbers on the digital clock on Boyd’s dresser. Two hours and fifteen minutes of this hell. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe he didn’t have a soulmate and there was a glitch in the cosmic system so his tattoo was just going to be every word known to man inked on his skin. He would be on fire for years. “The Boy of Many Words” they would call him. He would be famous. He could appear in circuses and on MTV Specials._

_Another flare of pain. Derek whimpered._

_He couldn’t take this anymore. The brand finally stopped looping and started to trail across his inner elbow diagonally._

_He hated them. Wherever they were, whoever they were, he hated them. Derek hated his soulmate, with every molecule of his being, with every fiber of his soul. After this was over, he was hunting them down and tearing out their throat. With his teeth. He looked forward to it._

_It felt like the skin on his upper back and whole right arm was melting off. Who the hell talked this much in one go?! To someone they just met, of all things? Maybe it was a speech. Maybe he’ll meet them at a conference. Or maybe they’re a cop and he’ll meet them when he’s getting arrested and they’re reading him his rights. Or, or maybe they’re a waiter and they’re reading out the specials._

_Heat. Pain._

_Whatever the case, Derek wanted them dead._

_Derek must’ve blacked out for a few seconds because when he came to, the pain on his back and arm had died down to consistent, heavy throbbing, and there was no new branding occurring. The whole bed underneath him was damp with sweat and his hair stuck to his face. He tried to push himself up but his right arm gave out and he hissed with pain._

_“Boyd!” he rasped out, as loud as he could when his throat sounded like sandpaper. Immediately, the door opened and his best friend walked in, a concerned look on his face. Of course, behind him strode Erica and Isaac, but at least Isaac had the decency to gently close the door behind him, denying entrance to Boyd’s five curious younger siblings._

_Erica whistled. “Oh, man. What a doozy,” she marveled. Derek couldn’t see her but he could tell she was trying to read the words. “What does that even say?”_

_Derek sighed, anxious. “You tell me.”_

_Isaac crawled over him to the other side of the bed. “I don’t know, dude. It’s kind of…it all kind of looks like one word.”_

_“Like, a doctor’s handwriting if the doctor chugged eight red bulls before writing the prescription.”_

_“Thanks, Erica. That’s really helpful.”_

_“That’s what it looks like!”_

_Derek rolled his eyes. “Boyd? You read it.”_

_Boyd huffed and peered over his shoulder from where he had sat in a chair next to Derek’s head. “They’re kind of right, D. It’s…kind of illegible.”_

_Great. All that work and he has no idea what his soulmate said. Is going to say. Whatever._

_“Give us a break, Der. There are no spaces, no punctuation, and it’s not even written in a straight line. It’s all a jumbled mess. Not to mention your skin is red and raw as fuck.”_

_“Wait.” He hears Isaac shift on the bed. “I think the letter of every new word is darker than the others. I think it says…”_

 

* * *

 “Oh, um, sorry, yeah, I heard you, sorry. No, uh, I didn’t know…we didn’t know…about the whole ‘private property’ thing. I mean, you don’t really have a gate or a fence or a sign that says ‘Keep Out” or anything. Which is something you should probably invest in for the future. That way random teenagers won’t wander in and trespass on your so-called ‘private property’, looking for their friend’s girlfriend’s clothing items and such. Look, I know this is weird. Because, surprise! We’re soulmates! And I…OH MY GOD DO YOU HAVE ALL OF THIS WRITTEN ON YOUR BODY SOMEWHERE?! I am so sorry, dude. That must have hurt like a bitch, didn’t it? Because I’m talking so…” 

The boy suddenly slapped his hand over his mouth and Derek snapped back to what was happening before him. Which didn’t really mean anything, as his brain had shortwired.

Soulmate. The beautiful boy in front of him was his soulmate. He had so many conflicting emotions. Joy. Relief. Confusion. Insecurity. Curiosity. Anger. Yeah, anger was definitely there, seeing as the person in front of him was the reason he could never go shirtless at the pool. People were nosy, and Derek was tired of people trying to read something on his skin they physically couldn’t read without causing themselves a headache. 

Derek blinked at the boy, processing this information, and realized that he was waiting for Derek to speak. Oh, right. That was the end of his tattoo. If the boy spoke again, that means Derek’s tattoo would be longer. Retroactively.

Trippy.

Derek cleared his throat. “This is weird,” he mumbled, just to end the cosmic curse, or whatever it was.

The boy exhaled. “Understatement of the millennium.” There was a pause. Derek knew he should say something. Welcome him with open arms, maybe, but he was stuck. It was like his body and brain couldn’t agree on what they wanted to do next. 

Suddenly, another boy emerged from a small cave behind a thicket. “Stiles, I couldn’t find…” he stopped when he saw Derek “Oh. Hey.” 

The boy- Stiles?- waved a hand between the two of them. “Uh, this is Scott, fellow trespasser. Scott, this is…”

He could do this. “Derek.” Nailed it.

The boys’ lips twitched, probably inwardly laughing at his incompetency. “Yeah, okay, this is Derek. My, um, soulmate.” 

Derek’s heart did a little somersault. He was somebody’s soulmate. Better yet, that somebody was cute and had perfect eyelashes, so, you know. Bonus.

Scott’s mouth popped open and he stared at Derek and then back at Stiles. “He said the thing?”

“He said the thing, Scott.” 

“Wow….congrats.” 

“Scott.”

“I mean, honestly. You’re really good-looking, dude.”

_“Scott.”_

Derek tried not to blush. “Uh…thanks?” He needed to leave before he did something stupid like giggle. “If you guys are done committing misdemeanors, I would like to go back home now.”

Stiles scoffed. “You’re leaving? We’ve just met!”

Did he want Derek to stay? Another heart flip. Stiles looked so put out and…they did just meet but…no, Derek needed get himself together before he and his beautiful soulmate had anymore interaction. He just had to play it cool. “Did you expect a proposal?”

“Well…no, but…”

“Then, I’m leaving.” He turned away, against his true will. “I expect you off my property within the next ten minutes or I’m calling the police,” he bluffed. The only person he would be calling would be Erica, to figure out how to keep his heart from flying out of his chest. He tried to will his feet from running through the forest. 

He thought about how he found his soulmate –Stiles- head tilted up towards the sky, the moon bathing him in light, rosy lips smiling in contentment.

Derek walked faster, already pulling his cellphone from his pocket. 


End file.
